


number one priority

by nygmadaydreams



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It of Sorts, Not Canon Compliant, Season/Series 02, Smooching, This can be platonic or romantic whatever floats ur boat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 15:33:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20762684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nygmadaydreams/pseuds/nygmadaydreams
Summary: Jim can't help but notice how oddly Oswald is acting during his visit to the King of Gotham.





	number one priority

**Author's Note:**

> just a little fix-it of s2 ep5/6 (i cant remember which one it is fjdjfdljd)  
also!!! we have a series with march (@missymisery on ao3) now where we'll hopefully be adding ficlets of all sorts of rarepairs in gotham! i wanted to start with gobblepot just to be safe lmaoooo

Jim Gordon had never necessarily understood what went on in the Penguin’s head, but when it had come to his attention that the assassinations of nearly all the mayoral candidates were orchestrated by none other than Oswald Cobblepot, it didn’t sit right with Jim. Oswald was unpredictable, sure. Definitely murderous, dangerous and reckless, but not stupid. It didn’t make any sense no matter how hard Jim tried to figure the situation out during his car ride from the precinct to the base of the Gotham underworld.

To his surprise, there were no guards stopping him when he walked through the door. Oswald always had some skull cracker right beside him, be it Butch or Gabe, but the whole place seemed deserted. It wasn’t hard to locate Oswald from the dining hall, dimly lit like always. The usually lit fireplace was out cold, only a couple of weak oil lamps on the walls illuminating the silhouette of the raven-haired man sitting in his chair at the end of the table.

Jim hadn’t exactly snuck in, but Oswald made no gesture to suggest he’d even seen the other. He sat still, shoulders hunched up, holding a near-empty glass of some potent liquor. The empty bottle on the table suggested Jim that he’d been drinking for a while now.

“We know you were behind the attacks on the mayoral candidates,” Jim opened the conversation bluntly. There was no point going through pleasantries with a criminal. Oswald didn’t react. Everything the man was doing, which was simply nothing, was so out of the usual; Oswald’s fiery personality wasn’t a secret to anybody.

Jim walked past the table and closer to Oswald. “You do realize we have the evidence for your arrest, right?” he asked, quirking a brow at the blatant ignoring from Oswald.

“Not now, Jim,” Oswald finally spoke and raised his eyes from the glass of whiskey. His voice was strained, almost trembling, and he looked even paler than usual. It only exaggerated the dark bags under his eyes and the freckles alongside his prominent nose. To Jim’s surprise, he didn’t sound mad. He wasn’t even declining the accusation. He just looked tired… and upset.

“What are you gaining from attacking them?” Jim asked and crossed his arms. He doubted he’d get a straight answer – one never did from Oswald.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Oswald said and slammed the glass on the table before sinking further into his chair. He shuddered and looked tiny in the huge chair. They stayed quiet for a while, Jim staring at Oswald with a puzzled expression while the latter chewed on his chapped lips.

“Are you not going to arrest me, detective?” Oswald broke the silence and forced a smile on his lips as he faced James again. “Though it appears to me that you came here unarmed and uncuffed. This visit wasn’t just to throw me in Blackgate, was it?”

Jim sighed and let his arms drop back on his sides. “You’re right. It wasn’t.” He prompted to take a seat in the table, uninvited at that, but Oswald didn’t tell him to go away. “You said I wouldn’t understand. Help me understand, then.”

“Wow,” Oswald said and laughed coldly. There was no joy behind his eyes. “The saint Jim Gordon is worried about me. How lovely.”

“Oswald,” Jim said quietly and leaned closer to the smaller man. “I’m serious. You killed someone. Almost killed two others. There _has_ to be a reason.”

“Well, technically it was Victor Zsasz.”

“You were the one who brutally stabbed that woman to death,” Jim said, deadpan.

Oswald’s face trembled a bit and he lowered the intense gaze of his pale eyes. Instead of his bottom lip, he began chewing his nails and the chipped black nail polish off of them. Jim could tell how nervous Oswald was, which was even more uncharacteristic behaviour. Oswald Cobblepot was never nervous, or if he was, he never showed it to anybody. Not over his dead body.

“…ve my mother…”

“What?” Jim asked, coming back to Earth from the trance he had kind of fallen into while staring at Oswald’s face. Oswald looked at him in the eyes and startled him with the tears swelling up in his eyes.

“They have my mother,” he whispered, barely audible, voice cracking in the middle of the sentence. He let out a broken laugh and looked away again, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

Jim was immediately alerted. “Who has your mother?”

Oswald shook his head and tried to swallow away the tears, to no avail. He was promptly breaking down in front of Jim and there was nothing either of them could do about it. Jim frowned, unsure of what to do.

“I c-can’t… say,” Oswald sniffed and hugged his torso with his arms. He had subconsciously begun rocking back and forth on the chair. “They’ll hurt her… Kill her, i-if I say.”

“So these… _people_, they’re making you do these things?” Jim confirmed and tried to catch Oswald’s gaze that was firmly placed on his lap. “Were they behind the fires, too?”

Oswald nodded and sobbed. “D-did you think I would just _do_ that?” he asked and laughed nervously. “You really don’t like me, do you, James?”

Jim scooted closer, barely still sitting on the chair, and grabbed Oswald by the arm to stop him from rocking any further. “Can we focus on the fact that Gertrud Kapelput is held hostage somewhere? Do you know anything else --“

“If I did, WOULD I BE SITTING HERE?!” Oswald snapped and pushed Jim away, standing up very shakily. He backed away and started pacing back and forth, his limp making him look even more pathetic alongside the tears falling down his reddened face.

“If they found out I was looking for her, they’d kill her and then me. If I don’t do everything they say, they’ll kill her and then me,” Oswald blabbered and cracked his neck as a nervous twitch. “And if I tell you anything, they’ll kill her. God, they’ll probably be mad I even said this…”

Jim had enough of the man’s mental breakdown and stood up too. He stopped Oswald mid-pace by grabbing him by his arms and holding him firmly in place. “Oswald,” he said again, trying his best to sound soft and reassuring instead of agitated. “I promise we’ll take care of this.”

“We? The GCPD? Don’t make me laugh,” Oswald scoffed and snivelled. “They wouldn’t find her if she was hidden in the precinct.”

“I’ll make this my number one priority,” Jim said, ignoring the nasty comment.

“I didn’t know you _had_ any priorities,” Oswald threw back.

“You’ve always been a priority to me, Oswald,” Jim said without even giving himself time to think. It just felt like the most natural thing to say, and it promptly slipped out of his mouth so nonchalantly.

Oswald was so surprised by the comment that he actually stopped crying and just stared at Jim. Jim felt the pale green eyes drill into his soul and the familiar heat of embarrassment start gathering around his ears. Finally, Oswald let out a weak laugh. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he said in a soft voice and wiped his nose a little.

“Um,” Jim tried to make his brain function, but it was hard, seeing Oswald’s smile so up close, “yeah. I guess.”

Oswald took a hold of Jim’s wrists and pried his hands off his arms. Still, their touch lingered on for too long to be considered normal in any situation. Oswald appeared to have noticed it, too, because after a final squeeze of Jim’s calloused hands he let go of him and hugged his own arms again.

“Thank you,” Oswald said out of the blue.

“For what?” Jim asked.

“For all you’ve done for me,” Oswald elaborated and gave him a melancholy smile. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d be dead. Literally. If not on the pier, then tonight after giving myself an alcohol poisoning.”

“Right,” Jim said and glanced at the empty bottle. “You really shouldn’t be near booze when you’re sad.”

Oswald laughed, and this time it sounded a bit more genuine. “I don’t have to worry,” he said and stepped right in front of Jim. “I know you’ll be here to take care of me whatever happens.”

Jim was going to argue, but all air escaped his lungs when Oswald leaned up and pressed a small kiss on his cheek. It was just a peck, really, but both of them emerged from it beet red.

“I should get going,” Jim muttered and scratched his neck. Whatever he’d wanted to say before the kiss had blissfully vanished from his mind.

“Say hi to Leslie from me,” Oswald said and smiled cheekily. It wasn’t as malicious as usual – the tear-stained face made Oswald so much less believable.

“Will do,” Jim nodded and gave Oswald an awkward half-wave before turning around. He was halfway out the door when Oswald spoke again.

“Wait,” he said and caused Jim to turn around. “If you need a lead, take this.” Oswald picked up a file from the table. It had gone completely unnoticed by Jim throughout their conversation. Jim returned to him and took the file.

“You can do your… stuff. You know. Fingerprints, handwriting analysis, whatever,” Oswald said and shrugged. “And it had my next orders so you can stop anything bad from happening again.”

“Thank you. Seriously,” Jim said and gave him a genuine smile. Oswald returned it and shook his head.

“It’s the least I can do. Anything that’ll help me get my mother back.”

“You will see her again, I promise,” Jim said and folded the file, sticking it inside his jacket.

After second goodbyes, slightly less awkward this time, Jim finally exited the building. For some reason, he couldn’t get the feeling of Oswald’s lips on his stubble out of his mind.


End file.
